Grown Up Orphans
by Lolee
Summary: Something happens and there is no explanation for it.  Now Dean has to figure things out while moving their lives forward. It's a good story I promise...
1. Chapter 1

**It's a new story…YAY! does a terribly awkward dance of joy**

**It's different from anything I've written before, but it's been in the back of my mind for at least a month now and it just has to get out. I hope you can all enjoy it! And please know that it's gonna be long…I'm not very good at stopping myself when I start one of these things! It's all mapped out already and there will be a few more people thrown in the mix. I think it's going to be good…but hey, I'm a little biased.**

**I love reviews…they make my muse do his own little dance, and we like it when he does his dance because he looks a lot like Ackles. I know, drool now So please send me reviews… they make the story better and the author write faster (as soon as the muse stops dancing).**

**(I know it's a little raw, right now, but give me a chapter to find my mojo again.)**

**Anyhow, please enjoy and let me know what you think!! Now go on, read the chapter…**

He sat quietly replaying that night over and over again in his mind; cold, sanitized hospital air chilling his bones. In two weeks he'd found no answers to any of his questions, no reason for the turn their lives had taken and no explanation for the mess they were in. After it happened he'd spent two days denying to himself that he may not be able to fix anything and a dozen after that afraid that he was right. He rarely left the room lest he miss something, and until this morning had only spoken to Bobby, now Ellen as well. It had been two weeks of fear and denial and searching and digging and still he had nothing. But something in his heart told him that if he looked hard enough, turned over enough stones, poked into the right corners something would come up.

"Water," the frail but familiar voice broke the silence and dragged Dean back to reality. He got up and crossed the room to Sam's bedside.

"Water. Water." He droned the single word over and over, an improvement from the silence of last week.

Dean poured water from a pitcher into a blue plastic cup and held it to Sam's lips, "Here you go Sammy". He tipped the cup and Sam started to drink slowly. "Alright," he pulled the cup away from Sam and watched him smile. The empty smile of someone who wasn't there anymore.

"You want to eat something? The nurse brought your favorite, grilled cheese." Dean pushed for his brother to eat. Sam didn't say anything or even turn to look at the food, just opened his mouth.

"No, I'm not gonna feed you Sammy. You're a big boy, you can do it yourself. Here." He held a triangle of sandwich out to Sam and sighed when he took it. He put a straw in the tiny milk jug and placed it in front of his brother, "Don't touch it Sammy, just drink through the straw."

Sam didn't respond, he never responded. Dean sat back under the window leaving Sam to the task at hand. He pulled the sandwich to himself, _hand shaking and lips twitching_, and missed his mouth. The second try he got a bite and chewed up the sandwich like a starving man.

Dean watched with a broken heart as his grown brother fought against himself to accomplish the simple task of eating. It took nearly thirty minutes and almost all of his energy for the food to disappear and for Sam to fall back asleep. When he was sure his brother was out cold, Dean snuck out to get his own sandwich and coffee.

He was barely gone ten minutes, but when he came back Ellen was sitting at Sam's bedside, not touching or talking to him, just watching him sleep.

"Hey Ellen", Dean whispered.

"Dean Winchester," she said, and if he didn't know better he'd think she was chastising him. "Are you okay?"

He slowly started to cross the room and she met him half way, folding him up in a hug filled with warmth and maternal concern. "Yeah, I'm okay," he lied, holding onto her a moment more than was absolutely necessary.

She stood back a step and looked him over, head to toe. "No you're not boy. Don't lie to me. Now sit down and tell me exactly what happened."

Dean put the coffee and wrapped sandwich down on the table like they weighed a ton and ran a hand over his unshaven cheeks and chin, "That's the thing. I have no idea."

"Okay, well start at the beginning and we'll figure this out." She dragged him to sit down next to her in front of the window, holding tightly to his trembling arm.

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his legs and cradling his face in his hands. "We were a few towns over working a simple salt and burn. He'd been getting bad headaches for the last week, no visions or anything, but enough to knock him on his ass for a few hours. Anyway," he shook his head to clear the cobwebs, "We were done with the job and he was exhausted and his head was hurting, so I gave him some painkillers and told him to lay down while I went out for food. So I left to grab burgers while he stayed at the motel to sleep."

"What motel?" Ellen asked, as though it mattered.

"The uh, the Magnolia Inn on highway 260. When I left his was asleep in the bed. He was fine." Dean turned his face to look at Sam, "he was fine."

"What happened after that?" Ellen was pushing him, searching for anything that would help her find the answers Dean couldn't.

"I was gone about twenty minutes to the burger shack up the road. When I got back, he was laid out in the parking lot. He was on his back and his eyes were open but he wasn't looking at me or anything else. I called his name and I talked to him but he wouldn't answer me, shit… I thought he was dead."

"Anybody at the motel know anything?" Ellen pressed.

"No," Dean scoffed, "story of my life, no one saw or heard anything. So I brought him inside and checked him over for any wounds or bumps on his head, but there was nothing. I laid him on the bed hoping it was a matter of time and that maybe he'd snap out of it. I ran the EMF meter in the room and the parking lot, but there was nothing there."

Dean got up and paced over to Sam, running a hand through his long brown hair, "I put him in the car and brought him here when he wet the bed." Dean closed his eyes when he heard Ellen exhale slowly. "He's twenty-four and wet the fucking bed".

"What do the doctors say?"

Dean turned around and faced Ellen, "They can't find anything wrong with him physically. They've done scans and blood work and x-rays. They've poked him and manhandled him and had shrinks talking to him like he's a freaking kid. But there's nothing. He's just not there."

"Then why are they still keeping him here?" She questioned.

"They're not, I am, I don't know what else to do. They said I can take him home, but home is the back seat of a forty year old car and he needs better than that. I just…" he hesitated and stared Ellen in the eye, "I don't know how to take care of him and they do and I can't figure out what happened. He just can't tell me, ya know?"

"Okay," Ellen looked around the room, eyes settling on a notepad on the table. She got up and grabbed it and a pen as well. "Go. Sit in the cafeteria, sit in the parking lot, sit on the roof, anywhere but here. I want you to clear your mind and write down every place the two of you have been in the last month and all the things you hunted. I want the names of victims and survivors, the locations of all the places you stopped, diners you ate at, motels you stayed in. I want to know every detail. If you got friendly with the gas station attendant, I wanna know his name. You understand?"

"Yeah, but I can't leave Sam alone that long." He had only left him long enough to get food and take a leak. What Ellen was asking would take at least two hours.

"He won't be alone. I'll stay with him." She smiled and waited for the young man to give in.

"You'll call me as soon as he wakes up?" Dean pressed.

"The second those eyes open, you'll know," she promised.

"Alright". Dean took the pad and pen from Ellen and tousled Sam's hair a little, careful not to wake him. "I'll be back soon Sam. Ellen's gonna sit here with you, but as soon as you wake up I'll be back."

He did his best to smile for Ellen as he left the room.

* * *

She married a hunter, raised a daughter, patched up broken men, delivered babies, rebuilt homes, and saved lives. So in the grand scheme of things, finding a way to help the Winchesters was simple.

As soon as Dean was gone she got on the phone and started calling in every favor she had on the line. She contacted every hunter whose number she had and fed them what little information she had. She called Charles Ballard, whose daughter had recently left home for college, sending her father on a never ending road trip in search of anything evil he could kill. She worked the details out with Charles and immediately got on the phone with Bobby, filling him in on the situation and asking him to do the boys a few favors.

She had just hung up the phone when Sam woke up. She walked over to him and gently placed her hand over his. "Hey there sleepy head," she smiled at him even if he wasn't looking at her.

"No," he said.

Ellen was a little surprised and confused, but kept going anyway. "How you feeling, Sam? Is there anything I can do for you?"

"No. No. No. No." He grew louder each time the word passed his lips. His hands curled into fists around the sheet and he continued his mantra. "No. No. No. No."

"Okay, okay," Ellen raised her hands in surrender and backed away. She grabbed her phone and dialed Dean, Sam still muttering in the background.

"Dean," she gasped when he picked up the phone. "He's awake. And I think you need to get back here."

He said something she didn't quite understand and the line went dead. She turned back to Sam, whose eyes had never strayed from the wall in front of his bed, and calmly talked to him. "It's okay. You don't have to get upset sweetheart, your brother will be back any second."

And as the words left her mouth the door swung open and Dean barreled into the room. He was next to Sam in a second, grabbing at his shaking hand and holding it tight. "Hey man. Calm down, it's okay. I'm right here. You're okay." He stood there telling Sam it would be okay, stroking his hand and bringing him back down. It took fifteen minutes.

"I'm sorry," Ellen said as they both sat back down, "He woke up and before I could call you he lost it and started yelling no."

"Yeah, he does that," Dean told her.

She glared at him incredulously then laughed, "You could have told me that."

"Yeah, I could have," he joked.

Ellen left soon after, Dean's list tucked into her jacket. She hugged him again, imploring him to hold on a little longer and promising him that they would find the answers. And as she walked out Dean admitted to himself that he believed her.

* * *

Dean slept that night better than he had since the whole thing started, about four hours, but it was better than nothing. When the morning finally pushed it's way in Dean got up and showered and got things ready. He had a new resolve and was determined to get Sam back on his feet. He watched his brother go through the demeaning task of feeding himself breakfast, then kicked things into gear. He ran a bath in the tub and found the clothes Sam hadn't worn in weeks.

"Alright Sammy. We're gonna take a real bath this morning and get dressed okay?"

Sam didn't look at him, just smiled.

In the bathroom Dean striped his brother of the awful blue hospital gown and eased him into the water. He kept reminding himself that once upon a time he was the one who bathed a little boy with curly brown hair and that this was really no different, jus the proportions had changed. He washed his back and under his arms. He scrubbed his face and behind his ears. He told Sam to close his eyes and poured water over his head, washing the mop of thick brown hair.

When the bath was over he dried and dressed his brother and led him back to the chair by the door. 'He's not sick, no more bed.' He slipped a pair of giant boots on Sam's feet and straightened his jeans over the ankles.

"Ready to go for a walk, big guy?"

Sam smiled, looking at his clothes and shoes in some sort of awe. He stood when Dean stood and allowed himself to be led out of the room. Dean held him by the belt loop and they walked the halls. Up and down the elevator, down to the maternity ward and through the cardiac unit. Dean kept talking to him like he was Sam. He reminded him of all the adventures they'd been on together and watched Sam's eyes light up when he embellished their victorious endings. It was two hours before Sam started to sag, the walking clearly too much for someone who'd spent weeks doing nothing.

They stopped at the cafeteria and Dean bought Sam an orange soda. They sat in the far corner, Dean talking about Bobby and Ellen and all the hunters they knew, when Sam got excited and knocked over his cup.

"It's okay, don't worry about it, we'll get you a new one," Dean soothed as he wiped up the orange colored liquid with a handful of napkins. He got up to get a new soda and was only a foot from the table, keeping an eye on his brother, when he heard the sweetest sound he'd been privy to since the day in Cold Oak that he found Sam alive again.

"Dean." It was nothing spectacular, just one syllable, the name he'd heard a million times. But this time was different. This time it came from Sam and it meant he knew who Dean was.

Dean rushed back to the table and squatted down next to his brother. "Yeah, Dean." He smiled and pointed to Sam's chest, "Sammy."

Sam turned and looked at Dean, right in the eye, then reciprocated. He poked Dean in the chest and said it again. "Dean."

In the back of Dean's mind he was sure this was something you would see on the Lifetime channel, but he wouldn't cheapen the moment with misplaced humor.

"Come on," Dean said standing up, "Let's get you another drink and we'll head back up stairs to your room."

Sam didn't meet his eyes, just stood and followed Dean to the soda fountain, then back to the elevator.

* * *

In Sam's room they both ate lunch, Dean talking all the time, convinced he could bring Sam out of it if he could make him remember who he was.

Sam's only response was to smile when he caught Dean's eye and repeat their names, clearly impressed with his own new trick.

And that's how it continued for two days, baths and walks and sodas. Sam never said more than their names, but it was enough to make Dean feel like he had a chance in this fight.

On day three Ellen showed up again. She entered the room quietly with a smile on her face and a pile of papers under her arm.

Dean introduced them again, "It's Ellen Sammy. You remember, she has the Roadhouse where we would get a drink after work?"

Sam didn't look convinced, but smiled anyway.

"Glad to see you Sam. You look better than you did last time I was here." She fawned over him.

"So what did you find out?" Dean asked.

"Well," Ellen sat down and put the papers in her lap, "Bobby and some others are looking into the people you had contact with. He thinks it could be a curse or something but he hasn't found anything yet."

"So we're still at point A," Dean huffed.

"No, not really," she told him. She put the papers in his lap and dropped a key on top.

"What's all this?" He was very clearly confused.

"Key to your house and all the papers we need you to sign to transfer the title." She beamed at him.

"A house?" He looked at her like one of them had lost their mind and he wasn't sure who.

"No, not _a_ house, _your_ house."

Dean shook his head, the cobwebs making things hard to understand. "I'm sorry. I don't follow."

"Charles Ballard isn't using his place anymore, it's just been sitting empty for months now. He owed me a favor and your father his life, so he's given you the house. It's really not much, but it's enough for you two," she explained.

Dean looked at the papers and palmed the key. "I can't accept a house Ellen."

"It's not up for discussion Dean. He owed and when I explained the situation he offered it up himself." Ellen reached into her pocket and produced a pen. "Now sign these papers and we'll get to work on him checking out next."

Dean looked at Ellen, ready to hand back the key and papers, then Sam spoke up. "Dean."

And that was all he needed. He signed the papers and handed the pen back to Ellen, who just smile at him and said, "Good boy."

Getting Sam out of the hospital as easier than Dean would have thought. There were no A.M.A. papers to sign, only insurance forms and pamphlets about taking care of someone in Sam's condition. Dean scribbled an unreadable name on the dotted lines and turned back to Ellen.

"Well, we've got it all ready for you two. An account at the local bank with a small fortune in it. Food in the pantry and beer in the fridge. Bobby brought an extra bed in and put a TV in the living room. You two just follow me there. It should take a couple of hours to get there, but you'll be between Bobby and I where the house is, surrounded by help," she told them.

When Dean and Sam made their way into the parking garage, Dean held Sam by the arm, steering him out of harms way and toward the impala.

Sam stopped a few yards from the car and smiled. "Baby," he said.

Dean spun on his heels to look at him. "What?"

Sam kept smiling but was headed toward the car now, "Baby," he said again.

"Yeah Sammy," he chuckled, "That's our baby."

**SO???? What did we all think? Good? Bad? Boring? The computer deserves a salt and burn? Like I said, this thing is all mapped out already and it's going to be long, so now would be the time to stop me if this is total hooey.**

**Hope you liked. Now go and send me reviews!**


	2. The Man

**I am so sorry I have been gone so long. It was one of those bad break ups. You knwo what I'm talk ing about. You never see it coming and there is no closure and you're left sitting on the bed with your hands on your face wondering where it all went wrong. No, I don't mean a guy. It was my computer (his name is Peter). Peter flipped out and crashed then did areally good impression of a dead computer. He went to the computer doctor and came back, Then tried his dead impression one more time. But he's okay now. **

**So we're back! I really want to tell this story, so please stick with me!! Here is a little chapter to pull you back in!! You guys rock for sticking with it!! Now, go read the pretty story.**

Dean had put an absent Sam into the front seat of the Impala. There was no seatbelt in the car, there never had been, and for the first time he wished he had thought to retro fit it with restraints. But in the moment there was nothing he could do about it, so he closed the door and climbed into the drivers seat, ready to face the next obstacle.

The radio was low as they drove out of the dark parking garage and into the sunlight. When Dean's eyes adjusted to the light he found Ellen's beat up truck waiting in the street and followed her to the first corner, where the problems started.

As the car came to a stop at the traffic light, Sam opened the door and got out of the car.

"Shit!" Dean threw the car in park and got out. He jumped over the hood and lunged at Sam. He hadn't gotten far, not intending to really go anywhere, but far enough to freak the fuck out of Dean. He grabbed his brother by the arm and pulled him back toward the waiting car.

"No, no, no Sam. Where are you going? Huh? Come on." Dean carefully led him back to the car, Ellen now standing behind the chevy waving traffic around them.

Dean situated Sam in the co-pilots seat once again, telling him not to open the door when he closed it.

"Put on the child lock," Ellen told him.

"What?" Dean looked at her as though she was insane, asking him to do something akin to tickling an elephant.

"The child lock," she said again. "Put the child lock on and he can't get out of the car from the inside."

Dean scrubbed his face with his right hand. "There are no child locks. I don't even have any seat belts." He wasn't yelling, but it wasn't a respectful tone either.

"Okay," Ellen turned to walk back to her truck, "Just watch him when you stop."

Two minutes and they were moving again. But Ellen was right. When Dean stopped at the light at the on-ramp to the interstate, Sam tried to get out again, stopped only by Dean locking the door before he could figure it out on his own. They continued on, and every time they stopped Sam made to exit the vehicle, and every time Dean stopped him.

It was only a few hours to the house, but that was a few hours too long with Sam. They stopped a few times to bring Sam to the bathroom since he didn't seem to recognize the idea of asking to use facilities, and to buy him an orange soda. He squirmed and fidgeted in the front seat, staring out at the landscape passing by, he turned up and turned down the volume on the radio, but never once did he look at Dean.

* * *

They drove to a small town, not that different from any of the others the boys had worked in over the years. They passed stores and restaurants, a post office and the local elementary school. It was a real town, not some desolate cabin tucked away from society in the woods, and Dean liked that, even if he wouldn't say it.

When they pulled up to the house behind Ellen, Dean was shocked. The house was more than Ellen had let it on to be and he felt a little guilty having already signed the papers to accept it.

It was a one story, white paneled house with a garage on the left. There was a huge bay window on the right, surrounded by shrubs. Monkey grass and short annual flowers lined the walk way from the drive to the front door. Add a white picket fence and Dean would've gone running for the hills.

"Well Sammy," he turned to face his little brother, "this is it, Home Sweet Home."

Sam didn't look at him, didn't turn his head to take in the full landscape. "No," was all he said.

Dean shook his head, for someone who didn't understand a lot of what was going on, the kid sure had a grasp on the word 'no'.

He got out and waited but Sam didn't move, so he went around and opened the door for his brother, who had to be hauled up and out of the car. When they were standing next to each other, Dean closing the car door, Sam leaned in and put his head down on Dean's shoulder, pressing his body weight against his brother.

Dean was a little surprised by the intimate touch, after all, his brother had barely looked at him in three weeks time. But for Sam he wouldn't waver, he'd stay strong and stoic. "You okay there Sammy? Tired from the drive?" Sam only sighed and rubbed his forehead on Dean's shoulder.

"Come on, we'll go take a look at the house then you can have a nap."

Sam straightened up and followed Dean into the sprawling ranch style house. The inside was bright and open, all clean lines and fresh paint. The living room opened to the dining room that opened to the kitchen. The study was to the right off of the kitchen and a hallway lined with three bedrooms and two bathrooms ran from there as well.

Bobby was outside in the back yard pouring charcoal into a keg-style barbeque pit. He hadn't seen Dean or Sam since things had gone down and had no idea what to expect.

When he looked up from his ministrations he saw the boys walking toward him and thought they looked fine, maybe a little worn, but like the same Winchesters who knocked on his door once a month.

"Sam, Dean! Good to see you boys! You had this old man worried," Bobby barked, smiling as he dropped the bag of coal. He walked right up to Sam and thumped him on the chest, "You look good Sam, how you feeling son?"

Sam didn't look at him, just turned and started to walk the other way, chanting as he moved quickly. "No, no, no, no, no."

Dean rolled his eyes, the chanting and desertion were getting old. It was Sam's reaction to every person he came in contact with.

"Sorry," Dean apologized as he went off after Sam, "He's been doing that with everyone."

Bobby looked shocked and dismayed. He'd known Sam since he was a toddler, changed his diapers, wiped his tears, cleaned his wounds. And now he was reduced to a cowering figure running in the other direction, completely unaware of who Bobby was.

"Hey, Sam. Hey." Dean caught up to his brother and took him by the arm. "It's okay Sammy. It's just Bobby. You remember Bobby. He owns the salvage yard, he took care of us when we were little and helped us get on our feet after Dad. You remember that don't you? The big yard with the junk cars and the house with all the books."

Sam looked at Dean for a split second, maybe he remembered something, then looked away as quickly. Back to the empty world he loved to occupy.

"Alright, you don't remember. But it's okay. Bobby's a good guy, we trust him. He helped get us this house and he's gonna look out for us," Dean tried to convince Sam as he led him back to the small gathering in the yard.

"Sorry bout that Sam," Bobby chimed in when the boys were close enough to hear him.

Sam didn't respond. Ellen laid a comforting hand on Bobby's shoulder. She knew that for Bobby this was the same as losing a son.

"I was gonna make some dinner," he said gesturing to the pit. "You boys hungry?"

"Yeah, we are," Dean looked at Sam for confirmation. "You wanna eat Sammy?"

Nothing. No glances, no responses. Nothing.

Dean sighed, he wasn't sure how much more of this he could take. "You're tired, I know." He patted Sam on the back then took him by the arm. "Come on, we'll go lay down for a nap and eat later, huh?"

Sam allowed himself to be led into the house and down the long hall. Dean chose the last room on the left and guided Sam easily to the bed. When he laid down Dean sat next to him and watched him. His eyes moved around the room for a little while before he gave up and closed them. One of the reasons Dean knew Sam was still there was because of the roll and curl. Sam would start out on his back, long legs reaching for the open air at the end of the bed. But give him about four minutes and he would roll onto his side and curl an arm around his chest. It was always the same. After the roll and curl Sam would adjust his breathing slowly, one deep breath in and a long exhale to slow things down. The next breaths would vary between long and slow and quick and sharp. But like clockwork, three minutes into the exercise, Sam's breathing would even out, measured and deep, till it matched the rise and fall of his chest and sleep found Sam. Today was no different, Sam followed the formula and was asleep in no time.

* * *

"No demons or witches or anything? Not even some local they pissed off?" Ellen was sitting in a lawn chair leaning over a plexi glass topped outdoor table.

Bobby was pouring lighter fluid over the barbeque pit filled with charcoal. "No, nothing. I've got people digging into the last case they worked, but no one can find any inconsistencies…all the stories add up to what Dean told you." He lit a match and tossed it into the pit, watching flames leap up . "We just gotta get Dean straight so he can take care of Sam and we can figure this thing out."

"What do you mean you've gotta get me straight?" Dean crept up on the pair, always so quiet.

Bobby jumped at the intrusion and moved closer to Dean. "Hey, we didn't hear you come out of the house. He asleep?"

"Yeah, he's asleep," Dean looked from Bobby to Ellen and back again, "What were you talking about getting me straight?"

"Do you boys like the house?" Ellen asked.

"Don't change the subject Ellen, tell me what's going on." Dean looked stern on top of exhausted.

Bobby sat down next to Ellen and Dean followed him.

"We have every hunter we can find looking for something to help, but right now, no on e has anything. We just…we see what this is doing to you and we need to know that you're on board with all of this. We can't look for a way to help Sam if we're worrying about you losing it."

"I'm not gonna lose it, " he told them with heat in his tone. "I don't have that luxury." He looked back to the house behind him. "I just…I just need time to adjust. Me and him, we'll adjust."

Bobby got up and went to the pit and started throwing burgers onto the grill.

Dean laid his head on the table and mumbled to himself, "we'll adjust, we'll adjust," over and over.

* * *

Burgers grilled and Dean stewed. He as trying to figure out how he could make all of this work. He'd need money to keep them alive which meant a job. But he'd need something he could do and keep Sam with him. He couldn't hustle pool forever and the fake cards were out of the question now. He'd have to figure this out soon, but for now he just wanted to eat.

The food was ready and the threesome was chowing down when Bobby brought out a manilla envelope and dropped it on the table between them.

"Dean Winchester," he smirked, "this is your life."

Dean dropped his burger and took the envelope in his calloused hands. He carefully opened it, feeling the weight and wondering about it's contents. The flap lifted, he spilled everything on the table and surveyed the articles in front of him: two wallets, a check book, the deed he signed at the hospital, house keys, a small blue book, and a file folder.

"What is all of this?" he asked as he sorted through the pile.

"Like I said. It's your life." Bobby reached out and grabbed the two wallets. He flipped one open and held it up so Dean could see the ID card tucked inside. "Arnold Dean Winchester. But you go by Dean because it sounds better than Arnold. Three credit cards; visa, master card, and amex. A bank card and a check book. Everything is taken care of, money will be dropped into the bank account bi-weekly and the cards are paid off every month."

Dean waved a hand in the air to stop Bobby.

"I appreciate all of this Bobby, I do. But the house is more than enough. I should be taking care of us, not relying on other people to do it," Dean protested.

"And how are you going to do that, huh? Tow Sam behind you to some job at a garage or get him a nanny?" Ellen's words were heated. She was frustrated by a Winchester and not for the first time in her life. "Listen, this doesn't have to be permanent. Once we get this thing sorted out and get Sam back on his feet you can do whatever you want – burn the papers, sell the house, donate it all to charity for all I care."

"Really guys, Sam and I appreciate – ," Dean started but Bobby cut him off.

"Would you shut up and pay attention so I don't have to do this twice?" Bobby barked.

You could have heard a pin drop as Dean's mouth hung open.

Bobby picked up the other wallet and held it up in the air, "Sam's wallet. Cash and a drivers liscense."

Dean nodded in acknowledgment.

"This," Bobby said holding up the file, "are your birth records, social security cards, school transcripts and diplomas."

"Diplomas?" Dean asked incredulously.

"Yeah," Bobby pulled out the papers and looked over them quickly. "You graduated with a degree in criminal justice. Some po-dunk university in Oklahoma. Sam finished law school in 06'. You were living next door to each other in Saco, IL till he," Bobby hesititated. "Till you moved here".

"Okay." Dean was taking it all so well. As well as he could.

"And the blue book is just a list of contacts. It's people who are already involved and people who are willing to help if you give them a call."

Dean picked up the book and flipped through the heavily inked pages. Some names he recognized and others he did not, but he felt a strong sense of gratitude toward them all.

Behind them, a crashing noise came from the house. Dean looked back to the screen door and saw Sam wondering aimlessly through the house. He was off the chair and sprinting for the house faster than he could get the word 'shit' out of his mouth.

* * *

The house was different from the hospital. It had a smell that was welcoming and the place felt warm. The hospital had smelled bad and felt so cold. So when Sam woke up in this different place, without Dean, he got up and started walking through the building searching for him. He'd called his name out softly a few times but had received no answer. As he moved from room to room he found himself easily distrated by what he found.

In the living room he immediately sat in the reclining chair and rubbed the soft material. In the dining room he ran his fingers along the knobs on the chairs at the table. The kitchen was bright and there were colorful dishes all over the counter tops. Sam reached for a heavy green glass and moved to fill it with water from the tap. The water spray was strong and it spilled over the top and onto the sides of the glass. Sam's long fingers were less dexterous these days and the glass slipped from his hand and crashed to the floor. Sam didn't freak out or scream, just walked away from the mess, remembering that he needed to find Dean.

That's when Dean burst through the back door, effectively frightening Sam.

The younger man stumbled backwards, away from the flurry of noise and energy Dean emitted. He wasn't scared of Dean, but of the outburst. He walked straight back onto the broken glass and hissed when it punctured the smooth skin on the bottom of his foot.

"Damn it, Sammy," Dean reached for his brother and pulled him carefully away from the hazard. He steered him to the table and forced him into one of the chairs, taking the one opposite of him.

"Lemme see," Dean whispered as he took Sam's foot in his lap. He could clearly see a green shard of glass protruding from his brothers foot, blood seeping around it.

"That's not so bad. Just hold still," Dean pulled a paper towel off of the roller on the table and used it to pull the glass from Sam's foot. He held it up and showed Sam before dropping it on the table top and pressing a new paper towel to the wound. "No problem Sammy. Dean's got it."

He stared Sam in the eye who was looking right back. There was something there, something unsaid but felt all the same.

Bobby cleared his throat and made his presence known. "Sorry, didn't mean to interrupt you boys. Ellen is fixing a plate for Sam then we'll be on our way."

Dean stood up and shook the junk man's hand. "I appreciate this Bobby. Sam too."

"I've said it before Dean. This is just what family does." Bobby turned to Sam, but didn't move any closer. "Bye Sam. It was good to see you. I'll try to remember to bring you some of those books you love next time I come by."

Sam smiled and Dean wondered if he remembered how much he loved to read and learn. His heart ached when it occured to himthat Sam might not even remember how to read.

Just then Ellen came in and placed jars of condiments and plates and cups on the counter top. She walked further into the kitchen and put a plate with two burgers on it in front of Sam.

"Well boys, the old man and I are going to get moving, let you get settled," she announced. She hugged Dean tightly and felt him hug her back just as strong.

She pulled back and looked at Sam, smiling so he would know she meant him no harm. "Be good Sam. And watch out for Dean. He's a handful."

Three of the four adults shared a laugh while Sam just looked at the blood smeared on the bottom of his foot.

Bobby and Ellen left, giving Dean instructions to feed Sam and lock the door and watch him at all times. They promised to come back with answers, but Dean wasn't holding his breath.

* * *

Sam ate one of the burgers after Dean cut it into small pieces and sat with him. He ate slowly and listened intently as Dean told him that they would have a bath in the morning and go for a walk in the afternoon. He told Sam that he would have the same bed he slept in for his nap but that Dean would be close by, just in the room next door.

It took Dean twenty minutes to get Sam out of his jeans and into his pajamas. Nothing special, just his gray sweat pants and his favorite navy blue t shirt with a purple greyhound on the front. He tucked him into the bed and sat with him for another thirty minutes before Sam finally rolled and curled and drifted off to sleep.

Dean found it easy to strip and shower, tired muscles and fried brain relishing in the hot water and the comforting steam. He let the soapy water wash away the hospital and the drive and the fear he was faced with. Yes, Dean Winchester was afraid. Afraid of what he didn't know and afraid of what he couldn't do.

But those fears were pushed away easily enough as he checked on Sam one more time then slipped into his bed and fell into a deep sleep.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Around three a.m. Dean woke to Sam sitting against the wall in his room, rocking from side to side and biting at his nails.

"Sammy?" Dean rubbed at is eyes and focused on the younger man across the room. He threw the sheets off and stumbled out of the bed and over to Sam, flipping the light switch as he did.

"Sammy, what's wrong?" He asked as he crouched down in front of his little brother.

Sam flinched as the light assaulted him. His eyes quickly scanned the room before falling on Dean. He didn't say anything, just looked at Dean with fear in his eyes.

"What's going on Sam? Huh? What's going on up there in the vault? Why are you in here on the floor?" Dean hugged Sam around the shoulders and pulled him close to him.

Sam looked in Dean's eyes and for the first time in weeks said something that meant something. "The man."

Dean ducked his head then looked back up at his brother. "The man? What man Sammy?"

"The man."

"Okay. The man. Is he here now?" Dean looked around the room and took a deep breath, searching for the scent of ozone or sulfur.

Sam pulled his knees to his chest and tried to rock back and forth, restricted by Dean's arm around him. "The man."

"Yellow eyes? You remembering yellow eyes? He's gone Sam. We killed him years ago."

Sam's eyes filled with tears and he couldn't look at Dean.

"Okay, okay. You stay right here and I'm gonna go check things out," Dean let go of Sam and grabbed his gun from the dresser. He stepped quietly into the hall, aware that the gun would do little good unless 'the man' was a burglar. He carefully turned on lights and rounded the corners, checking the windows and doorways for unbroken salt lines.

Satisfied that all was fine and nothing was out to get Sam, he returned to his room to find Sam sitting in the center of the bed holding the plunger from the bathroom. Dean laughed a little in spite of the situation.

"Alright," he crawled onto the bed and sat down next to Sam. He took the plunger from his brother and tossed it across the room.

"First of all, the plunger wasn't going to help. Second, I need you to come right to me the next time you see that man. Wake me up if you have to, I won't be mad," Dean told Sam.

Sam sniffled and looked at Dean with pleading eyes.

"Okay, okay. You can stay with me, but stay on your side of the bed and don't touch me."

Sam smiled and laid down against the pillows. Dean got in the bed and pulled the blankets up, covering them both.

Sam smiled at the safety he found while Dean smiled at the memories it brought to him, hundreds of nights spent sharing motels with Dad and Sam, protecting his family.

Sam smiled at his brother and said the only thing he could, "Dean," in a warm way.

Dean turned and returned the smile. "Yeah Sammy."

**I hope some of you are still out there and that you enjoyed this. I'm going to try and get something else up soon. I had a horrible day at work...some people can be so...just so. Anyway...any guesses as to waht's ailing Sammy?? I bet you don't! But come on...lets get a few guesses...entertain the author..**

**Thank You for reading and PLEASE review!! Again, sorry I was gone so long!**

**kisses and shit - Lolee**


	3. Cinnamon Buns & Library Books

**Ooohhh. Chapter three. Sorry the plot won't really thicken here, just move the story into the next phase. There will be much Dean angst and subsequent emotional pain in chapter four, but you'll need this one to get there. Stick with me. I feel my mojo coming back.**

**So go on… read the little story.**

When Sam was a kid, not even ten years old, he went through a phase during which he ate eggs in a basket every morning for months. He would get up, go straight to the kitchen and demand Dean make him his breakfast. Everyday, bread and eggs. He'd sit happily at the table eating his eggs in a basket and drinking milk, never juice because it made his tummy hurt.

So bright and early, when the sunlight cut sharp streaks through the curtains and the floor was cold and creaking, Dean got up to make breakfast. The house was hallow and empty for all the furniture in it, every step he took releasing a weary sound from the oak floors and echoing through the building. The frigid night air had slowly turned brisk with the rising of the sun and was creeping in.

He poured water into the coffee maker and added the grounds to the machine before he turned it on and focused his attention on feeding Sammy not just breakfast, but a memory of his past. This would be easy. Cut a hole in the center of the bread, butter the bottom, drop the bread in a pan, crack an egg and put it in the middle, break the yoke and let it cook. He'd done it when he was thirteen, so he should be able to do it now.

A half a dozen eggs, an entire stick of butter, and the better portion of a loaf of bread later, Dean confirmed it, Emeril he was not. _Burned the toast, forgot to break the yoke, scorched the egg, missed the hole in the bread and soaked the toast, ate three slices of bread out of frustration, dropped an egg on the floor, dropped a pat of butter on the floor_. Dean gave up and sat at the table to drink a cup of coffee and watch the morning spread across 'his' lawn. It was nine thirty before he even thought to wake Sam up.

* * *

_He was walking through a parking lot. Probably a motel, they stayed more nights in motels than he had in his own home. He was alone and his head hurt and he was tired. So damn tired all the time now. He was walking toward what he thought was his room when he heard someone behind him._

_"Sam?" The voice beckoned._

_He turned to look behind him, senses heightened, overly aware of all the things and people around him. He scanned the parking lot and the balcony of the second floor. No one was there and the voice had been too close to be any of the people in the parking lot across the street. So he kept walking, moving closer to his room. He heard the voice speak his name again and as he turned face the antagonist he found himself with no time to react, only to say his brothers name._

* * *

Dean crept into his own bedroom to find Sam thrashing on the bed, long limbs flailing and striking out.

"Shit!" Dean lunged forward and grabbed his brothers arms, pinning him to the mattress. "Sam! Hey! You gotta wake up Kid! Sammy, hey!"

Sam 's eyes popped open like they were spring loaded. He didn't get up or grab for his brother, just lay very still, inspecting his surroundings.

His eyes wondered around the room and if Dean was honest he was a little worried about what Sam had been seeing in his dream and 'the man' from the previous night.

"Hey," Dean grabbed Sam's shoulders and pulled him upright. He placed a hand on the back of Sam's neck and gently squeezed the now tense muscles, "You're okay man. We're at the house and everything's good, alright?"

"No," Sam told Dean.

"No? No what Sammy? What was your dream?" Dean asked cautiously.

"No." Sam looked away.

"Was it about the man?" Dean ducked his head to try and get a look in Sam's eyes. "Hey, did you have another dream about the man?"

Sam looked a little terrified, eyes scanning the room, hands gathering Dean closer to him. "The man," he whispered.

Dean's heart started to pound. "He here now Sam? Do you see the man? Is he in this room or in this house?"

"No."

Dean took a deep breath and felt his heart thumping against his ribcage, begging to be freed.

"You're okay Sammy. You're okay," Dean pulled Sam close to him and hugged his brother tightly. He didn't know who he was trying to comfort and convince, himself or Sam.

"No," Sam said against Dean's chest.

"Yeah, you're safe Sammy. I promise." Sam didn't cry. He shook slightly in Dean's embrace, clearly terrified of something Dean didn't understand. "Hey, lets get up and get dressed, huh? I'll take you out to get some breakfast okay?"

Sam's stomach heard the word breakfast and growled on cue.

"Hungry, huh?" Dean laughed as he released Sam from his grip.

Sam smiled and rubbed his belly like a child.

* * *

Everything took a lot longer than it used to and most of it felt awkward. Like bathing.

Sam undressed himself slowly. He sat on the toilet and pulled his shirt off, rocking side to side as he tried to maintain his balance. Next went the pants followed by the underwear and any semblance of Sam's modesty.

Dean turned on the shower and checked the temperature before forcefully guiding Sam under the spray. "It's okay. Just like the tub. Just use the soap and that wash cloth and clean up Sammy."

Sam looked at the soap and back to Dean with questions in his eyes.

"I'm not getting in there with you and I know you know how to bathe Samuel. Like I said," Dean reached in and grabbed the washcloth and handed it to Sam, "just like you did in the tub at the hospital."

Sam hesitantly took the towel and reached for the soap. Dean closed the shower curtain and sat down on the closed toilet lid to wait.

It took fifteen minutes and when he was done, Sam shut off the water and stuck his head out of the shower, smiling proudly at Dean.

"Okay," Dean laughed at Sam's glee. "You dry off and we'll get you dressed and find some breakfast."

* * *

Sam dressed with Dean's help and at a passing glance, looked like the old Sam. But Dean knew better.

When they got in the car Dean locked the doors and reminded Sam that he couldn't get out unless Dean had gotten out first and that it was for his own safety.

Sam was very well behaved. He sat in the passenger seat with his hands in his lap. His eyes stared out of the window and he never once moved to disturb the radio or touch the door handle.

They drove about five miles and stopped at a coffee shop that wasn't far from their neighborhood. It was a small building with handmade signs in the window boasting free wi-fi and hot cinnamon rolls.

Sam waited till Dean had gotten out of the car and opened his door before he moved. He smiled when Dean told him it was okay to get out now.

As they walked into the building the smell of cinnamon rolls and coffee washed over them. The walls were a muted shade of red and lamps hung over the booths and tables illuminating the room. There was a woman behind the counter, rushing back and forth.

"Morning gentlemen, I'll be right with you," she said as she rushed through the door to the back.

Dean just nodded at her. "You wanna sit down Sammy?"

He didn't expect or wait for an answer, just took Sam by the belt loop and pulled him to one of the booths by the window.

"What do you want Sammy? How about a cinnamon roll, huh? No juice in the morning, it makes you sick." Dean told him.

Sam looked up at Dean at that. Question written on his face again.

"Yeah, since you were little. Don't know why. You can eat a pound of sugar at six a.m., but juice always made you ralph."

"Sorry about the wait. I lost my best waitress this morning so I'm shorthanded. What can I get for you boys?" The woman who had been flying back and forth behind the counter was standing at their table now and Dean was seeing her, really seeing her, for the first time. She was gorgeous. Curly brown hair, tan skin, and deep brown eyes. Her green shirt, covered in flour like the rest of her, said 'Anna's'. She had on jeans and brown cowboy boots that Dean was sure weren't supposed to be worn in a kitchen.

"Oh, it's not problem. Can we get uh, three of those cinnamon buns and a cup of black coffee for me and…,"Dean looked at Sam as though trying to read his mind. "Can you take coffee and cut it with a lot of cold milk and sugar and maybe some chocolate?"

"Like a mocha latte?" she asked, pen ready to jot it down on the pad in her hand.

"Yeah, sure. Why not?" Dean tried to act like he knew what she was talking about, but also knew he wasn't fooling anyone.

"Okay. Do you want me to pour it over ice? Like an iced mocha?" She asked.

Great, it was stump the latte virgin hour. "Look, he can't drink anything hot, he can't order for himself and I don't know what he'd drink. Can you help me out?"

Her eyes drifted to Sam. "Why don't I bring you some milk instead? It's always safe."

"Yeah, that's good. Thank you …" Dean trailed off, searching her shirt for a name tag.

"Anna," she said as she wiped her hand on her jeans and extended it to Dean. "Anna Roarke."

"Anna as in 'Anna's' Anna?" Dean asked.

"That's me," she said. She wrote the milk down and tucked her pen behind her ear. "Be just a minute boys." And she turned to walk away, revealing the back of her tshirt which boasted, 'voted best buns in town'.

Dean checked as she walked away. "Not bad," he quipped, "maybe not the best, but definitely a ten," he mumbled.

Sam was staring at him across the table when he looked back.

"Don't worry about it Sammy. Just talking to myself."

Anna didn't lie, she was back in a flash; two plates, one tray, a coffee, and a jug of milk. "Dig in boys. Let me know if you need anything else."

Sam smiled at her and looked at Dean for permission to eat. One nod and Sam was pulling a cinnamon bun apart and shoving it in his mouth. Dean opened the jug of milk and after putting a straw in it, put it in front of Sam. "Don't squeeze it like you did the juice box Sammy boy."

Dean tried to eat the cinnamon bun, but breakfast was supposed to be greasy and savory, so the sweet pastry just didn't go down well. He sipped his coffee and watched Sam eat, drinking his milk without touching the box.

"Ya know," Dean leaned back and ran a hand over the stubble that peppered his cheek, "I see it now Sammy. Going to get you at Stanford, dragging you back into this, not forcing you to stop after dad," Dean hesitiated. "I shouldn't have done it. I should have let you go on and live your life. Now it's my fault you are the way you are. I pushed you too hard, asked too much. You wanted to read, I made you clean weapons, you wanted to be a kid I forced you to be a hunter. To be me."

Sam never looked up from his breakfast, just kept eating, working on his second bun now.

"I became Dad. I forced you to do what I did because it was easier to force you into my way of life than to give you your own. And I'm sorry for that Sammy. But don't you worry. I know you're in there somewhere and I'm gonna figure it out. I'm gonna make it right again."

Sam glanced up and smiled at Dean before shoving the rest of pastry in his mouth. Dean confirmed as best he could that Sam was done and got up to pay.

Anna was standing at the counter punching keys into a black laptop and humming to whatever was playing in her ear buds.

Dean cleared his throat and tapped on the counter to get her attention. "I'm sorry," she said pulling the buds out of her ears and moving in front of him. "I just get so caught up. Did you need anything?"

"Uh, he's done, so we're gonna head out. Just wanted to pay my ticket." He was trying not to stare and not to be so…Dean.

"Okay," she picked up their ticket. "$8.57."

Dean pulled a ten out of his wallet and handed it over. "Really good coffee by the way."

"Well thank you." She handed him his change and looked at Sam circling the room. "Is he okay?"

"Don't know," Dean looked at his brother. "He was alone and something happened to him that changed him and the docs can't figure it out. He's my brother, so I'm taking care of him. I'm Dean by the way and that's Sam. We just moved here."

"Well, it's nice to meet you Dean." She smiled warmly. "You two should come back and see me again. I could give you some tips on the town."

"Thank you." Then the conversation was cut short by Sam's shouting.

"No, no, no, no." Antoher patron had come in and while trying to get into the café, apparently got a little too close.

"Hey Sammy. Chill out okay?" Dean put a hand on his back and stared him in the eye. "I'm sorry," he told the patrons, "he gets a little upset around strangers." They smiled and walked away.

"You ready to go for our walk?" Again Dean grabbed Sam's belt loop and dragged him out of the building. "Bye Anna."

* * *

The walk was slow. Dean wasn't sure what Sam recognized or remembered so a lot of the stroll was spent pointing out buildings and objects.

"That's a mail box and those are bike racks. Across the street there, that's a hardware store. You know, hammers and nails and all that jazz." Dean wasn't really looking where they were going, just walking. So when he came up to the library, an impressive size for a town so small, he stopped dead in his tracks, his heart aching.

Sam looked at him and quirked an eyebrow, waiting for an answer.

"It's a library Sam. Filled with books and magazines and computers and newspapers. People come here to read and do homework and research things." Dean's gaze shifted down to the pavement. "You used to love libraries. You've spent most of your life with your nose buried in a book."

Sam patted Dean on the back and started up the stone steps that led into the library. Dean followed him, unsure he'd be able to hold it together, seeing Sammy in there…like that.

Sam walked in, confidence in his step and a smile on his face. He walked past the children's section, bypassed the information desk and headed straight to the back wall. He stopped in front of the section on local history and ran his fingers across the spines of the books.

Dean swallowed hard. "You want a book Sammy? I mean, I – I could read it to you if you want me to."

Sam took a deep breath and sucked in the scent of old ink and musty paper. He recognized the smell and it made him happy. He slowly turned to Dean and gave him another absent smile. "No."

"Okay. Well, you want to look at some of the other books or maybe…I don't know. What do you want me to do Sammy? Just tell me." Dean was desperate, and so early in the morning. He wanted to get into the car and drive away, find a hole that he could hide in till Sam was back. But Sam needed him and truth be told, no matter his condition, he needed Sam.

Sam turned and walked away, headed for the front door and slipped out, his brother on his heels. They walked through the town. They were on the older side of the city and it had a lot of character, old buildings, small businesses, charming little restaurants. They stopped at a mom and pop and bought every kind of candy both of them liked. They stood in the sun negotiating the zipper on Sam's jacket for about five minutes before giving up and heading back to the car.

They left the impala in the parking lot of Anna's and found a note under the wiper when they got back.

**_Dean –_**

**_It was really nice to meet you and I hope that I'm not over stepping my bounds. I just wanted to offer to help you with Sam if you needed it. I'd love to see you guys again, so call or stop by when you have time._**

**_-Anna-_**

**_907-3612_**

It intrigued Dean and scared him at the same time. He needed to focus solely on Sammy, but part of him needed someone to talk to so he wouldn't be alone. And the truth was, no matter how hard it was to accept, even with Sam there, Dean was alone. But he folded the note and stuck it in his pocket anyway, he could always call her later.

* * *

At home Dean made tuna fish sandwiches and made sure Sam ate. If there was nothing else he could do he would make sure that Sam was active and ate properly.

They watched re-runs of old sitcoms for a while, but Sam didn't seem to be paying attention, so he took him outside and did his best to keep him interested in this life. He told him more stories about hunting and their child hood. He embellished the times Sam saved his ass, trying to make him feel important or get a rise out of him.

In the end it just felt like a wasted afternoon that led to a crappy meal and an awkward evening.

Dean put Sam to bed and waited till he was asleep to take his own shower and knock off. But no matter how exhausted Dean was, sleep wouldn't come. He closed his eyes and rolled around, he hummed 'Enter Sandman' and rubbed his chest. Before he knew it, it was three a.m. and he was on the verge of tears. This guy he was living with wasn't who he had once been and everything that he had to do for Sam that his brother could do for himself a month ago, made Dean's chest tight.

He gave up on the bed and went to the living room and turned on the TV. Two shots of Jack and an hour of 'I Love Lucy' Later and Dean was out like a light.

* * *

When morning crept in, bright light abusing his eyes, Dean woke up on the couch. The TV was screaming with some perky morning talk show host and his first thought was to thank God that Sam hadn't woken him up with 'the man' nightmares.

He turned on the coffee pot and slid some bagels in the toaster before he went to wake up his brother.

When he opened the door the bed was empty and Sam was gone.

"Sam! Sammy! Where the hell are you damn it?" He didn't mean to yell and sound so angry, but he was at his wits end.

That was when he heard sniffles coming from the other side of the bed. Quickly rounding it, he found Sam on the floor. Knees pulled to his chest, back against the side of the bed, eyes all red and puffy, with snot dripping from his nose.

"Hey Buddy," Dean cringed a little at the tone he used as he crouched down to touch his brothers face. "What's going on? Why you crying?"

Sam tilted his head up and looked at Dean. "No. No Dean."

"What do you mean 'no Dean'?" He slumped down to sit right next to Sam.

"The man. No Dean." Sam whimpered and hugged himself tighter.

Dean's eyes slipped closed when he realized what had happened. He had told Sam to come to his room during the night if he needed him, that he wouldn't mind. He must have had the dream about 'the man' and gone to the room but found it empty because Dean was on the couch.

"Oh Sammy," he pulled Sam close wrapping an arm around his broad shoulders. "I'm sorry I wasn't there. I was just in the living room. I'm sorry. I won't go far again, okay? Now lets go get some breakfast."

Dean stood up and started to make for the door, but Sam caught him by the ankle and effectively stopped him.

"Dean." His second favorite word and one of the only four he seemed to know.

He looked like a frightened puppy.

Dean stepped back and crouched down. "I'll wait for you. It's okay. I'm keeping you safe, just like I promised Kiddo."

Sam whimpered and tugged at his brother. "The man."

"Okay. I'll tell you what." Dean ducked his head and pulled the amulet and leather rope from his own neck and placed it on Sam. "You can wear this for now, alright. It protects me, so I know it'll protect you too."

Sam fingered the strange object that bumped against his chest. "Dean," he used that tone that meant he was happy and totally trusted his brother.

"Yeah, yeah," Dean chuckled, "Come on you big girl. I think you made me burn breakfast."

The two stood and walked out of the room, unsure what the day would hold, but certain they could get through it together.

**I should have just dipped the boys in sugar, right? That would have been far less nauseating I'm sure. I love the angst, I mean, If I could bottle it I'd sell it to all you angst hungry readers. But the sappy, sugar coated, heart-warming stuff never comes easy to me or sits well either. Still, this kind of called for it. I'm trying to keep Dean tough, but expose his soft underbelly at the same time. Am I doing well or did some of you actually puke?**

**So you have no idea what's wrong with Sammy, huh? Don't fret, I don't think anyone will actually guess until the big reveal. I just think a lot of you are really smart and have some pretty wild plots of your own and I thought that maybe someone would go out on that limb and guess the wild twist. This isn't going to be your typical 'brother gets whacked, brother doctors brother, boys smile and eat pizza while admiring new stitches.' No, no. This one is gonna be good.**

**And Anna…I'd love to know if any of you have thoughts on Anna. I must admit: I have created her in my likeness. Yes…I've put myself, well my physical attributes, into a story. Bad author, bad author.**

**I've rambled long enough…now scurry off and review!! You guys rock my sox!**


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